On a quiet Saturday afternoon, Paul and his wife Maria are sitting at home reading their favorite books. Opposite to where they sit are their two sons: 15-year-old Jason and 12-year-old Jack, absorbed in playing chess. What’s the scenario here? The family calls it their “offline day”. From Friday night through Sunday evening, there are no video games, no computers, and no cell phones.
In our “always on” lives, such a scenario of family convention seems gone. Are we too immersed in the brilliance of the digital world? Perhaps. We cannot seem to resist the lure of our cell phones, even when we are in the company of others. Apparently, we have sacrificed conversation for connection.
At home, families sit together, texting, and reading emails. At work, executives text during board meetings. We also text when we’re on dates. Walking through a college library or the campus of a high-tech company, one sees an identical scenario: People are together, but each of them is in their own bubble, furiously connected to keyboards and tiny touch screens. The little devices most of us carry around are so powerful that they change not only what we do but also who we are.
Technology-enabled, we are able to be with one another, and also elsewhere, connected to wherever we want to be. We’ve been used to the idea of being in a tribe of one, loyal to our own party. In the silence of connection, we are comforted by being in touch with “invisible” friends and significant others, not too close, nor too far, just right.
A senior partner at a law firm describes vividly a scene in his office. Every morning, young associates would first lay out their suite of technologies: laptops, tablets, and multiple phones. Then they would put their earphones on. “Big ones. Like pilots. They have converted their desks into cockpits,” he said. With the young lawyers sitting in their cockpits, the office becomes quiet, a quiet that does not ask to be broken. They have completely plunged into their virtual world.
As we can see, there is no limit to time and space in this digital world. Connection can be anytime and anywhere. Gradually, we’ve picked up a habit of deletion – wiping out rich human relationships. The move from conversation to connection, for example, is part of this. In fact, online connection is often a deceptive illusion in which we cheat ourselves, assuming we’re not alone. Worse, over time we’ll stop caring and forget there is a difference between online connection and face-to-face conversation.
We are tempted to think that our little “sips” of online connection add up to a big swallow of real conversation. No, they don’t. Even though all of these sips have their places – in politics, commerce, romance, and friendship, I would claim, no matter how valuable they are, it’s impossible for them to substitute for real conversation, where people exchange ideas and share viewpoints dynamically.
Yes, connecting in sips may work for gathering discrete bits of information, or for saying “I am thinking about you”, or even for saying “I love you”, but it’s far from the adequacy of communication when it comes to understanding and knowing one another. Real conversation, on the other hand, is a more informative process, in which we’re more caring and observant. We hesitate and pause and go silent, and we reveal ourselves to one another through tones and nuances.
While communicating on our digital devices, we unconsciously raise our expectations as well. As we increase the volume and velocity of online connection, we start to expect acceleration – faster answers. We ask one another simpler questions; we dumb down our communication, even on the most important matters. Face-to-face conversation, by contrast, unfolds slowly, so it teaches us patience.
In addition, our move from conversation means diminished opportunities to learn skills of self-reflection. These days, social media continually asks us what’s “on our mind”, but we have little motivation to say something truly self-reflective. Imagine how hard it is to do something with thousands of online friends! It is through the conversation with trusted others that we learn to converse with ourselves – to be honest with ourselves.
I’m not a critic, but I am a partisan for conversation. To make room for it, I see some first steps. At home, we can create “sacred” spaces for conversation while doing domestic chores: the kitchen, the dining room. We can make our cars a place free of little devices. We can be a consultant to our children through the demonstration of the value of conversation. At work, we can do the same thing. Employees asked for casual Fridays; managers may “collaborate” and introduce conversational Thursdays.
Although an “offline day” may be unbearable for tech enthusiasts who need to alter their habits, experts say it is beneficial to assess both the merit and burden of digital technology. Let’s take some time away from the beeps and rings to evaluate our relationship with technology. Try to make some changes. At the beginning, it might be hard, but after a few months when a habit forms, we’ll begin to realize we have already gained a lot from it. So, look up, look at one another, and let’s start a conversation.